A Wolf Among Eagles
by Tigress in da room
Summary: No matter how well you hide, others will always see you. So you must take to the night, run alone, and most importantly, rely on none but yourself. The Creed claims that "Everything is permitted". Yet this too is a lie. Lyaal has learnt how to lie only too well, but is it possible to hide so much from the only one who you would call friend? Altair/OC Altair/Malik. Lemons later.


A Wolf Among Eagles: Chapter 1: Of Stars And Thieves

Night was dawning upon the stronghold of Masyaf. The mighty stronghold drew itself inwards against the biting cold of the desert night. Candles and torches were lit in windows, tiny chinks of warm light against the cool blues of the settlement. All was generally silent, save for the nickering of horses outside the gate and the hushed words among guards and the others, those who guarded the guards.

High atop the fortress of Masyaf, completely alone in his study with no one but the messenger pigeons and curled parchments for company, the esteemed figure of Al Mualim was visible between the slats of the tall window, the sweeter, icier night air mixing with what was left of the warm, sluggish atmosphere of a day gone past. The Master watched his village and fortress settle in to sleep, listened as the voices quieted and nearly all the squares of light in windows were snuffed out. He contemplated with curiosity and wariness as to what exactly the "urgent news" that the returning Assassin brought with him. The bird who had brought the message had returned to Masyaf not a day earlier, meaning that if the Assassin rode as fast as his steed allowed, through the night, he would arrive in a few hours' time. Little did he know that this urgent news would change another's path so drastically.

There was one who had little but sleep on his mind however.

~0O0~

The Assassin drove his horse onwards as fast as he could, foam gathering at the edges of her mouth as her heart raced faster than her hooves over the dusty earth. The circumstances whence he had been secured to carry such precious and mysterious cargo were about as strange as he could imagine. Huddling over slightly lower to keep it safe and warm, he reflected once more on what would ultimately turn out to be a decision so great so as to sway the course of history.

~0O0~

It had been a routine contract. Kill swiftly and silently, leave without trace. The merchant whom had been at the end of his blade had been entirely deserving, having been trading in bodies rather than goods. As he had made to leave the house, a quiet yet grievous sound from below met his keen hearing. Balanced upon the windowsill, bloodied feather in hand, it was a snap decision whether to investigate further or not.

He bit his lip with the first stirrings of worry as the sound came again, this time gentler, almost pleadingly. The human cry was one of anguish and sorrow but a day away from giving up, from someone who had been trying to give up for weeks upon end. On quick feet, he investigated beneath the carpets at the bottom of the stairs, a creaking trap door and even creakier ladder being revealed. He knew full well it was not in his duty to save whoever was down there, but he reflected on the Creed before he made his next decision:

"Stay your blade from the flesh of an innocent. Hide in plain sight. Never compromise the Brotherhood"

He knew that this was not for reasons to make the Brotherhood's work easier: the three tenets were to be followed to create peace, both within and without.

As a whole, none of the three simple phrases told him to venture into that basement. Their message of peace however, did. He could not leave the sorry soul down there to suffer any longer, or he would risk tipping the balance in his self to the side of war rather than peace.

So when he stepped onto the first rung of the ladder and made his way down, eyes adjusting quickly to the gloom, he was thankful he had chosen to follow his instinct. For shackled hand and foot to the wall, mere remnants of threads of clothing upon her broken and weeping body, was a woman. Breath wheezed in and out of her chest, but her gaze was focused in ecstasy at his silhouetted form against the meagre light from above. Her voice was barely above a rasping whisper when she asked pitifully:

"Please, child…come closer…Free me from this hell, and take my child with you…They are the only good thing that has come to me…Since the merchant made me his whore…And left me here."

He came closer as was asked, steeling himself against the rancid smell that emanated from her. She gestured weakly to her throat, the chains slithering over each other as she made the simple sideways gesture, though its intent was clear.

With a hesitating hand, the Assassin reached down to his belt and removed one of the small, dart like throwing knives, its wickedly sharp edge glinting briefly before he placed the blade in the woman's hands. She nodded her thanks, but instead took great care setting the blade down next to her mangled leg, stroking it lovingly. Her next words were even coarser, and the Assassin made no move of any kind as she went on

"Please…I beg of you…My child will have nothing here…I cannot provide for them…Even if I were free, I have…no coin to feed them with…Pl…" Her words trailed off, too weak to go on further.

The Assassin's eyes gave no clue away as to the struggle he faced within himself: follow what the Creed implied and keep his peace, or leave this child here to die.

"You can rest in knowing that the merchant lies dead…I cannot guarantee this babe's safety"

"And for that…I thank you…but please…Make them one of your own…T-then, I know they will...be…s-safe"

In that moment, a heavy pounding upon the door of the house echoed down, demanding to know why the next payment for the slaves had not been made. He had but moments to decide what to do.

In a swift flurry of white robes, he reached forwards and took the bundle of rags from where she had it nestled against her breast. It stirred ever so slightly, but made no cry. For a brief moment, the Assassin nodded his agreement, gave her one last fleeting glance, before he was up the ladder and away, out of the window into the night, the babe uncomfortably close within the folds of his robe.

It was only when he was a few houses away that he realised the only flaw in his plan: He could not bring the bloodied feather to the Rafiq and keep this new mission concealed at the same time. Yet he was expected back at the Bureau, risking even more questions were he late.

The beginnings of true nervousness began to chew at him as he made his way over the rooftops in the blazing sun, being careful so as not to crush the babe against his chest when he caught the edges of walls.

After a seemingly endless path over rooftop after rooftop, the vine-covered grate roof of the Bureau was both soothing and painful to his concerns. He knew little of children and what they should do at such a young age, but the fact that the child had not mewled or really moved within its cocoon brought a pang of doubt to his chest. If the child died, it would now be on his hands. That was not the sort of blood he wished to spill, for it was the kind that was so young and innocent that he would never be able to wash his hands of it.

He left these ruminations to the side for but a moment, before taking a hold of the edge of the roof and letting himself drop into the cool, shadowed interior with a small scuff of boots against stone.

Any thoughts of taking a few hours to sleep on the inviting cushions in the corner were gone, most of his unconscious attention now on the tiny life he knew nothing of what to do with. His hands were trained for murder, not healing. He prayed that the Rafiq may know what to do.

Ducking into the chamber adjoining the open-roofed area, he placed the bloodied feather on the counter, announcing quietly:

"The slave-merchant lies dead…Though a new burden has been forced upon me"

With an expression between confusion and curiosity, the Rafiq looked up from his ledger and made a beckoning motion with his wrinkled old hands:

"Show me, Tamal"

Wordlessly, Tamal reached carefully into the folds of his robe and set the bundle of warm rags down upon the counter, the occupant within turning a little in disapproval of being removed from the warmth. The Rafiq's eyes hardened briefly, before they returned to their usual, slightly-tired state.

"The woman whom the merchant had kept as his mistress begged me to take her child and keep it safe…I could not refuse, or risk losing my peace"

"What do you plan to do with this child? He is already so weak…You would have been better to leave him there"

"She asked me to make him an Assassin in the hopes that he would at last be safe…Before I could protest, I had to flee the house. It was a snap decision…And now I have no clue as to where to turn"

The Rafiq sighed deeply, clearly doubting whether the child would make the journey he was about to propose.

"Then you must abide by your promise. This child cannot become an Assassin here, Tamal. Take him to Masyaf, and if he survives the journey, take him to Al Mualim. It should be he who decides whether to accept him as a Brother or not"

Needing no more encouragement, Tamal enshrouded the babe in his robes once more, before beginning the long journey back to his home.

As he fled the Bureau, the sun winking its last blaze of heat, the Rafiq let fly the messenger bird he had prepared, watching with something of a heavy heart as it flew onwards to Masyaf, bringing word of Tamal's return and the urgent news he brought.

~0O0~

The horse was shaking violently when Tamal led her to rest by the gates of the city. As soon as he slid from her back, her knees buckled and she lay on the ground, wheezing and whistling in tune to the wind that whispered through the gaps between the sections of the great gates before him.

Leaving the horse to whatever the night would bring, he tiredly but doggedly made his way up the path, unseen by the guards as they changed their watch.

He ran swiftly up the steps into the fortress, flicking glances at the walls, knowing full well that ears and eyes were everywhere if he did not take care to avoid them.

He took a moment to compose himself before stepping into the Mentor's study, painfully aware of the ridiculous way his robes bulged around the child he had sheltered on the long journey home. Thankfully, he could feel the child's slow breaths against his ribs, through the extra blanket that the Rafiq had wrapped him in before he left.

"Ah. Tamal. What news do you have for me?"

He took a deep breath before answering:

"I did only what the Creed implied. Had I ignored my instincts, my peace would have been lost"

As he said this, he gently removed the babe from his robes, holding it awkwardly in his arms and placing the gently rising and falling bundle on the desk before the Mentor, who was nearly frozen in shock. Before he could reply, however, Tamal cut in and explained the events that had led him to bring the child here.

Al Mualim was deep in thought, and without declaring his decision on the matter, excused Tamal from the study, ignoring steadfastly the Assassin's incredulous looks and instead turning to the babe before him and summoning one of the healers from the infirmary.

Wisely enough, he did not question the circumstances of the babe's arrival, but instead said quietly:

"He will survive the night. His fate will be decided on the morrow"

Al Mualim stated his thanks formally, and turned once more to the window. He frowned up at the moon, huge and glowing in the late Winter sky. She seemed to be watching with more scrutiny than usual tonight.

Frown deepening, Al Mualim closed the shutters across the window quietly, the bright light from outside snuffed out instantly.

~0O0~

Despite his tiredness, Tamal rushed down to the infirmary (not noticing the healer tending to the child he had rescued in another room tucked away down the corridor), instead turning left; towards another room that was sparse save for a bench and a very stressed looking Assassin.

Said Assassin looked up tiredly from his seat, warmth creeping into his expression when he recognised his brother, both in blood and in loyalty to the Creed.

"Tamal! I did not expect you to make it in time"

He laughed weakly and sat down next to his brother, resting his head in his hands as he continued to stave off the fatigue that gnawed at him.

"Neither did I Umar…I was…held up in Damascus a few days ago and have only just returned"

Umar sighed weakly, pinching his brow in worry that even for him was poorly concealed.

"If this torment goes on for even another hour, I fear I shall not be able to stand when it is over"

As if mocking Umar's lament, a wail of pain echoed through the thick stone wall of the next room. Tamal flinched, but his frayed nerves were calmed when some instinctive memory informed him that the woman's cry was not from despair and cruelty, but of the effort of bringing a new life into the harsh world.

Tamal and Umar made a valiant attempt to remain awake, but soon both succumbed to their unique fatigues and went into light sleeps against the cold wall behind them, heads tilted back to the stone slightly for lack of a pillow.

Truth be told, it was another three hours before the infrequent cries from the next room ceased and the heavy wooden door creaked open. Umar immediately snapped to, his brother slightly slower to react, both of them blinking sleep from their eyes.

Umar's motions were almost reverent as he approached the healer-come-midwife who stood in the doorway, awkwardly taking his newborn son in his arms.

A silent look from the healer was all he needed to see to know that his son's mother had passed away in her labours, but the grief was temporarily replaced by wonder and hope for the tiny bundle now held in his arms. Even now, the boy's face was serious and without any hint of a smile.

Moving over to the window, Tamal by his side, Umar looked at his son under the light of the stars.

"What will you name him?" asked Tamal, a frown of curiosity under his slightly rumpled hood.

A tiny smile warmed Umar's face as he looked up at a constellation that would come to be known as Aquila. One of the stars there shone brighter than the others, and it was the only star which he knew by name.

Said star shone brightly, looking down on the child where the moon's gaze could not reach. Smiling slightly wider as his son's name came to him, Umar said gently:

"Altaïr. His name will be Altaïr."

~0O0~

Whilst the two brothers looked down upon a boy who had already been accepted as a Brother, the healer who was attending the child swallowed uneasily as dawn broke once more over Masyaf

Having unwrapped the babe from its two swaddles, one considerably cleaner than the other, and bathed it and kept it as warm as he could, he now tucked it into the crook of his arm, looking down at the face that had a look to it that was neither serious nor cheerful, but instead totally serene in its resting.

Al Mualim had not slept during the night, no feelings of fatigue plaguing him. It was curiosity and consideration of the healer's charge that had kept him awake, as he tried to weigh the risks and benefits of adopting a child of such terrible origins into the Brotherhood.

It was when he had just made the decision in his mind however that the healer approached and laid the sleeping child in the Mentor's arms with a very small but very, very weighty piece of information and left him to decide his fate.

Before the city woke under the dawn's kiss was when the night hunters in the wilds surrounding Masyaf went to sleep. As if protesting at the night's retreat, the far-off howling of wolf could be heard, shouting at the moon who hid her face behind the horizon once more.

Upon hearing the wolf's cry, reminded of an old rhyme he had heard somewhere of a wolf-thief named Lyaal who stole the lives of sheep in the night. He smiled briefly upon thinking only how fitting the rhyme would come to be in time:

"Lyaal. Her name shall be Lyaal."

And thus, the first Sister since the Brotherhood's beginnings was welcomed into the arms of those who fought for peace.

Those who guarded the guards.

Those who were only known by one word:

Assassin.

**AN: So after having played a few hours of AC, I simply fell in love with it. The characters, the setting, the time, everything. So I felt the need to write a fic XD**

**I apologise for having promised in the summer that I'd carry on with my fics, but more GCSEs have turned up on my doorstep, with another two in about a week's time. However, I'd forgotten the somewhat stress-relieving qualities of writing and so updates will *hopefully* be more regular now, as well as some other things I'm working on that aren't fanfiction. **

**Either way, I hope you'll enjoy this story with me as I look at how Altair, Lyaal and Malik grow up into all three very different Assassins. Also, there will definitely be smut and lemons later on, maybe even some Maltair/Altmal if I can find some way of fitting it in XD (because jfc I ship that shit so hard)**

**Tigress in Da Room**

**P.S: Reviews/PMs are always welcome! If I have somehow missed out on some massively cannon detail/time/custom, PLEASE message me. I want this to be as historically and cannonly accurate as I can make it (preferably without learning ancient Arabic)**


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